Unrequited love: the Story of the Wolf and the Mockingbird
by Daughter of Ice and Fire
Summary: Love and betrayal, trust and deceit and the blurred narrow line that separates them. The war for the Iron Throne ended, the White Walkers seemed to have disappeared, so there's a relative peace in the Seven Kingdoms. Can Sansa cast aside the old grudges? Can Petyr mend the mistakes of the past? Different paths long since, but can they share one future?
1. New beginning

_On the day when Jon Snow and Sansa Stark took back the North from the vicious Ramsay Bolton, winter officially began. Then it raged for a rather long time before the first signs of summer arrived. Winter is still here, but it's not a long time until the snow disappears again from King's Landing. And let's admit it, winter is quite beautiful in its own way, but everything has to end once._

At that very moment when Sansa Stark managed to wrap herself in that particular black coat she fancied so much, a member of the Kingsguard approached her silently.

''Excuse me Lady Stark, but I have to inform you that the king requests to see you.''

Sansa looked at the ready-to-leave escort then back again to the guard and gave a deep sigh.

''If that is his wish, lead me to his majesty!''

They began walking towards the centre of the castle, and Sansa noticed that more and more guards joined their company along the way. They made their journey to the enormous golden door of the throne room, and as they reached it, one of the Kingsguards opened it and then stepped aside with a polite nod:

''Milady.''

Sansa walked inside the huge hall, hearing the door shut beside her immediately. Even though she moved forward with silent and careful steps, every footstep echoed through the almost completely empty room. She has never seen the throne hall so devoid of life.

No one was present there, except for the lonely figure sitting on the Iron Throne. What an extensive chair to sit on for such a small man.

Sansa approached the throne disposedly, and halted at the bottom of the podium.

''Your grace,'' she greeted the king with a short bow.

The figure stood up, so Sansa could see the face now, which had been covered by a shadow. She could see the same smirk on the face of Lord Petyr Baelish that she has known so well.

''Sansa, I am so delightfully happy to hear the news about your leave in time,'' he said and started to walk down the steps towards Sansa. When their eyes were at the same height, he stopped, leaving a few steps between them.

''I beg your pardon, my lady, that I shall disturb you in the hour you are about to leave,'' his voice sounded clearly, without any sign of guilt. ''May I ask where your journey takes you?''

She answered after a few moments of deliberation.

''I am going back to Winterfell. I have already spent too much time in King's Landing, it's time for me to lend some help for Jon. Winter will end soon, and I am afraid that there will be no tasks to carry out by the time I return home.''

''And do you think that the Warden of the North requires your help?'' Petyr asked in a neutral voice. ''Do not misunderstand me, my dear, I have no objective to criticize your intention to assist your brother. I just want to imply that he has numerous adjuvants in the North. Why would he need you, when he has all the leaders of the houses of the North?''

For a while Sansa was just staring at the expressionless face of Lord Baelish, then she spoke:

''What is that you really want from me, Lord Baelish?'' Sansa saw a twitch in the corner of his mouth, when she said his name. ''I assume you didn't invite me here just to talk about the lords in the north.''

''No, indeed not,'' then he added. ''And forget about the formalities. You are not standing in front of a stranger,'' after a short pause he continued. ''I was wondering if you would find pleasure in staying here and negotiating with the delegate of the Iron Bank about the indebtedness of the Crown. In the recent past you did a lot for the stability of finances, I reckon you should be here when the final decision is made.''

However Sansa was quite a good player of the game herself, and she knew that Petyr didn't brought her here to invite her to the meeting with the delegate of the Iron Bank.

''I doubt that you require me to settle this matter, as the whole Small Council is available for you,'' she said in a toneless voice.

This remark was the ultimate proof that Sansa learnt very well through the years from his devious mentor.

Lord Baelish made another step forward.

''I see now that I play before you without avail Sansa Stark,'' finally an honest smile appeared on his face. ''But tell me, what other thing could possibly persuade you to stay here, in King's Landing? I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, I could even command you. But why on Earth would I do that? Since a restrained bird is not even a true bird.''

He made another step closer and took hold of Sansa's hand.

''I have spoken about the thing I desire back in the days, during the war,'' he added. ''When we were in Winterfell.''

Sansa looked into the eyes of Lord Baelish and she saw nothing else, but honesty, longing and a wee bit of fear that he tried to conceal as much as he could.

''I always wanted to be a queen,'' her voice was low, but confident, looking away. '' Becoming the wife of a handsome and charming prince so that I would sit next to the Iron Throne,'' she finally looked into his eyes. ''I no longer desire to be a queen. In the end it doesn't matter if I sit there or not, the only thing that counts is that I live with a person that I love.

''Do you remember what I told you before I left King's Landing?'' Sansa nodded. ''It doesn't matter what we want, once we get it, then we want something else. This only applies to titles and possessions. To power,'' he paused a bit then looked into Sansa's eyes. ''But not to people. Those that we truly love, we'll love forever. Whether she loves back or rejects us.''

Petyr released her hand.

''I have to admit, my dear Sansa, that rejection from you is more painful than anything else, but I will never force you. I promise you that this was the very last time to talk about it with you,'' Petyr's deep blue eyes turned to grey as if the clouds suddenly covered the evening sky. ''I won't take any more of your precious time, my lady, I have already wasted too much of it.''

With a last glance at the flaming red hair, the porcelain white skin and the icy blue eyes, Lord Baelish turned back and started to walk towards the back of the throne room.

After a few steps he heard a soft voice:

''Petyr,'' Sansa has never called him like that before.

The man stopped, but didn't turn back.

''With the come of age, I've learnt that most people cannot be trusted. Not even once. Though in certain, special circumstances, I believe in a second chance,'' she said with a little smile.

Lord Baelish stood there for a moment, petrified by what he had just heard, then he went back to her with a fast pace and locked her in his arms. They were standing there for a few seconds, even the last snowflakes of winter slowed down and halted in the air.

Sansa hung onto the man's arm, who led her through the throne hall with slow steps. Confidence reappeared in Petyr's moves, which Sansa missed in the past minutes, that particular smirk was back on his face making him seem quite satisfied.

None of them spoke a word, they walked next to each other in complete silence. Both of them were looking into a new world, in which neither of them has been before.


	2. Heard by the Wolf

**_Desire_** _is one of the most fundamental concerns. We all desire something. Either fame, family, money, love or power. Something that really makes us happy, until we start longing after another thing. Life is such an endless and cruel circle. However, there are intermediate periods when nothing can cloud the clear sky..._

Sansa was walking alone in the gardens of King's Landing, which had been so pompous before winter arrived. She recalled the wonderful flowers, the virescent grass, the gentle breeze and the monumental verdured trees, which had covered her face during the long summer. She was wondering about the past as she was walking in the cold wind, under the sun shrouded by the clouds. There's not much time left before the last snow patches disappear from King's Landing and summer will overtake the cold winter days.

She reached a spacious, wooden arbour, where she had had a discussion with the Queen of Thorns and Margery Tyrell about the monstrous King Joffrey. She was watching the vehement waves of the sea, when she suddenly heard a tiny clatter from behind.

Turning backwards, she noticed the approaching Petyr Baelish and two other figures dressed in the fancy armour of the Kingsguard.

''Your grace,'' she addressed the forthcoming man, who responded with a wide smile.

''I am very happy to see you again Lady Stark,'' Baelish began, keeping a two-step distance between them. ''Unfortunately my schedules didn't allow me to visit you in the forenoon, but I would be delighted to invite you for a little walk into the city during the afternoon. I believe a lot of time has passed since you last stepped outside the castle walls.''

Sansa has almost instantly came up with a sassy comeback, but realising that it wouldn't be wise to speak, as the two guards were also within hearing distance, thus she swallowed back what she had prepared to say. Namely, Petyr was the one who forbade her to go into the town, saying that it would be too dangerous. Even if she was accompanied by guards. Undoubtedly dangerous, especially without his personal supervision.

She could have fled if she wanted to annoy the man, but she was touched by his concern for her safety, therefore she let Lord Baelish control her. Just on rare occasions.

Lord Baelish stretched his arm as an invitation, Sansa accepted it without resistance.

That's how they walked to the main gate, mutely, sank into their own thoughts, behind them were the members of the Kingsguard. They barely talked to each other during the jaunt, silently enjoying the company of the other.

They walked past the ruins of the Great Sept of Baelor, which stood there collapsed, just like on the day when the shrewd conspiracy of Cersei Lannister razed her foes to the ground.

Lord Baelish decided not to rebuild it, as not only did he not respect king Baelor, but he didn't even thought it a sensible idea to spend any of the saved money on it. As a result, the ruins were left as a memento of human maleficence and astuteness.

They were going through the Street of Flours, where the scent-laden air of freshly baked bread hit them immediately. This was the famous street of the bakers in the capital. They gave Fleas Bottom a wide berth, because even with the guards behind their backs, Petyr wouldn't have let Sansa into the place that was the breeding place of vice and crime.

Then again they visited the Street of Steel instead, which had traditionally been the area of smiths and craftsmen, packed with masters praised all around Westeros. The sightful march, led by Baelish and Sansa, passed the slimy masters, all wishing to give a present to the king, from whom they only received a polite disregard.

He was guiding the girl forward slowly until they reached a small house at the very end of the street. As they entered, they saw a squabby, but strong-looking elderly man, who was holding a large hammer in his hands. At the moment he noticed the arriving group, his eyes wide opened. He immediately stopped working, and hurried before them.

''My king,'' he bowed before him, then turned towards Sansa repeating the movement. ''My lady,'' then turned back again. ''An unexpected honour, my lord. I planned to send it to the castle when I am finished with it, but I barely managed to do so, I didn't have time to…''

''Do not dread anything, I am not here to haul you up for it,'' he saw the master suddenly ease as if a stone was removed from his back. ''But if I'm here now, I'd ask if you can give it to me.''

Petyr glanced at Sansa from the corner of his eyes, and noticed that she understands nothing about what is going on, so he sent her a half-smile, then turned back to the master, who finally brought in a tiny package.

Lord Baelish took the bundle and sank it into the depth of his robe. The group departed without a word except for the goodbye, and continued its journey in the city of kings.

After a short time they arrived to a place that was so familiar to Sansa. They were standing on a pier that stretched into a beautiful bay, above them was a colossal building: the Red Keep. It was a late afternoon, the sun was already on its way to set, emerging from the clouds time to time.

When she was residing in King's Landing she always sat there, watching the harbour, the departing and arriving ships, guessing their cargo and where they would go. It was a dear memory, the only piece of the child's mind that had enjoyed its stay here. She could escape to this pier from humiliation, it was her final shelter.

They walked out to the end of the pier, leaving the guards back on the shore, watching the last rays of the setting sun. As if time has stopped, and nothing has changed, they, Petyr and Sansa, were standing there, on the same place like many years ago. But a great many things have altered since then. And they both knew it too well.

Somewhen Lord Baelish pulled out the tiny package from his robe and held it out for Sansa.

''I have a gift for you, sweetling. I would be honoured if you'd accept it,'' he put the present softly into Sansa's hands, who started to unwrap it from the dark green silk.

When finally all of the wrapping was removed, a silver necklace was lying in her palm, on which a beautifully crafted pendant hang. A mockingbird. The self-chosen sigil of Lord Baelish that no one else wore apart from him.

''I would be favoured if you'd wear it,'' he said.

Sansa looked up to see his waiting look and smiled lightly.

''Thank you,'' she couldn't say anything else and Petyr's eyes showed that she doesn't even need to.

''You can't even imagine, my dear Sansa, how long I've been waiting for this moment.''

Even these days Sansa was thinking a lot about how trustworthy Petyr Baelish is. It was an eternal mystery that you can't easily find a comforting answer to. Although by now the man didn't need her directly to gain power, but that particular fear has always remained in her that she is just a pawn in the great master's brilliant plan. He could not earn her full trust yet, but the woman's resistance weakened respectively.

They began their way back to the castle, talking jovially, encircled by the guards, hoping that one day they won't have to be afraid of others, and their time shall come for an easier life. If that day will come at all. But they didn't let doubt darken this spectacular late winter afternoon. Not today.

At one time even the Game of Thrones ends. At least that's what Sansa believed until now. But there are always new people, who see an Iron Throne in their dreams, whose eyes can only perceive power, therefore the Game can never end.

Not as long as there is something to fight for.


	3. Forthcoming storm

**_Fear_** _is one of the most villainous things. It comes into existence without instant notice and grows in the background until we can't keep it outside our mind, it intrudes upon our thoughts. As the saying goes, fear cuts deeper than swords. Namely, because swords can only cut through the body, while fear itself, can penetrate the soul._

It was a relatively cloudy day in King's Landing. Late in the afternoon, Sansa was sitting in her study chamber in the Red Keep and was busy writing letters. The past weeks were quite relaxing and pleasant here, in King's Landing: she occasionally attended a few meetings to keep herself occupied during the day, but she still had plenty of spare time, therefore she restarted her childhood hobby: embroidering and making costumes.

The king was engrossed beyond measure, but he found time every day to visit her, and she welcomed him gladly. Only the whisperings frustrated her that occurred every now and then, she tried to ignore these, but at times she couldn't. The crowd always loved to gossip about the small moments of the well-known. Perhaps even more than about their grandiose acts. That's how the simple man brings closer the life of the privileged: they chat about things that can happen to them as well.

Although Lord Baelish did everything he could to save her from the inconveniences, but his frequent visits were noticeable enough.

There was a quiet knocking coming from the door that suddenly drew her back from her thoughts, into reality.

"You may come in," – Sansa raised her voice.

The shadowy silhouette of Lord Varys appeared in her chamber.

"Lady Stark," – he bowed. – "I hoped that you would have a few minutes for me in the afternoon," – he said with an inexplicable smile on his face.

"Ah, Lord Varys. Please take a seat!" – she waved her hand towards a chair opposite to her table.

Varys bowed again, then without a word he settled onto the offered chair.

"What a murky afternoon it is today, don't you think?" – he gestured towards the window. "Apart from that summer will be here soon," – he added.

"How may I help you, Lord Varys? – Sansa asked.

Varys smiled mysteriously, then he continued:

"Excuse me, my lady, for the interlude, I have no intention to waste your precious time," – he nodded towards the pile of letters on Sansa's table. "You must have a lot to do, but you know, certain issues should be discussed off the record."

A bothersome feeling started to spread in her thoughts, forwhy such discussions that start like that never denote a congenial ending.

"Well, there are a few controversial affairs in the realm that bread conflicts between the king and the kingdoms" – he began explaining.

"Such cases have always occurred since the seven kingdoms exist," – Sansa stated.

"That is true, my lady, but those have always had consequences. Truthfully speaking, very serious consequences," – he nodded slowly as if he would be the one to remember all those conflicts. "And what was the solution in all cases? As a matter of fact, there are only two possibilities: either moving the king out of his position or defeating the rebellious. But what if the interest of the realm is to serve the wish of the rebels?"

"I don't understand you, Lord Varys," – Sansa frowned. – "Where does this little history lesson leads us?"

"The king gained too many enemies for himself. It may be true that the realm is on its way to prosper, but certain, hmm very influential people have different plans."

"What you're talking about is betrayal."

"Betrayal is only a point of view, my dear. It depends on who we betray: our allies or our king," – he continued the explanation. The more he spoke, the more darkness sneaked into the chamber. "Lord Baelish is the captain of a sinking ship that is being attacked by his enemies."

A thousand and thousand thoughts were swirling furiously inside her head. Varys definitely knows something about a conspiracy against Petyr and somehow the spider tells her about it.

"And why did you decide to discuss this matter with me?"

"It seems to me that Lord Baelish has taken a special interest in you," he looked into Sansa's eyes. "My little birds told me that. For the sake of old times, I'd like to give you an advice. Leave the capital, return to the North as soon as you can! You'll be safe there. Travel far from here and leave everything and everyone behind!" – the emphasis was definitely on the everyone.

"Lord Varys, those are not easy things that you ask from me," – Sansa tried to reason calmly, though he felt the emerging fear inside her. "And you know it well that my current commission requires me in the capital."

Varys took a deep breath, and stood up looking at her face.

"Petyr Baelish won't leave that particular ship. But you shouldn't stay on it, otherwise you'll sink with him as well when the peril arrives to King's Landing," – he turned his head elsewhere. "It is not their aim to hurt you as well, but the followers of the king, yes."

Sansa was staring amazedly at the figure standing before her, whom she thought she knew well.

"What is the thing that you really know about? Tell me the exact facts!" – Sansa ordered him.

He gave an elusive reply:

"I know nothing, I just hear things that are either rumours or facts. Mostly just splinters. My little birds only bring me pieces and it takes a lot of time to draw a conclusion. Assumptions, you know," – he turned back and walked to the door and while he opened it, looked back at her. – "Please consider what I said. Good evening Lady Stark!"

Lord Varys has learned to be a great player of the Game himself throughout his youth. So did Baelish. Varys was a ruthless counselor, and Baelish was a natural risk-taker. One of them has always seemed indifferent about her, the other manipulated her way into the Game. Things never got that complicated before. When the time comes to chose between life and death, between trust and power, which one would the King choose?

Sansa used to have a strange feeling that she will eventually become a victim of power struggle. The one who will be buried under the ruins of chaos. And the face looking down on her would be Petyr Baelish's.


	4. Small and great matters

_What the most skilful and witty people need to succeed is_ _ **perseverance**_ _. A gift acquired through firm decision that many can't make. It is the ability to carry on during tough times and the willingness to stick to those who matter over measure. Perseverance is forged through suffering and a key to harvesting success. It is essential to have if you do not want to fall to the ground before reaching the golden door of victory._

Sansa could easily find the throne room even if she had no idea where to look for it. She entered the noisy hall that was packed with people and spanned forward to the sideways to see what was going on in the centre. She made her way to the front amongst the robust golden armoured Kingsguard and came across the gaudy clothing of the nobles standing in the front of the room. She noticed the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who was on sentry-duty standing next to the Iron Throne.

She stopped on the left side of the hall so when she turned towards the middle she was almost in line with the sitting and highly concentrating figure of Petyr Baelish. This was one of those rare occasions when he wore a crown, he seemed so different from how she had seen him before as he was sitting in the middle of the flood of light amongst the fancy people. He was too graceful. Yet she liked it.

Opposite to Sansa, on the other side of the Iron Throne, stood the delegate of the Iron Bank with a contented grin on his face as if it had burnt into his cheekbones. Sansa didn't like him at all, she thought of him as she thought of the other officials of the Bank: ruthless, calculating and rigid. In a certain sense they were even similar to Petyr, but Lord Baelish has never been rigid towards her.

Keeping the royal presence on these meetings was necessary, but at times it was rather boring for the king, more like a formal event without any profit or progression. Mostly he had to deal with petty thievery and neighbour's quarrels and the king had to dispense justice. As Petyr looked sideways, he caught a glimpse of the arriving Sansa and greeted her with a tiny smile that only the two of them noticed and understood.

Hereinafter, a ruffled grey haired middle-aged man stood in front of the king who seemed to be a fisherman.

"Who are you and where do you come from? Please present your question or request!" – asked the king.

"I am just a simple fisherman from the western segment of the kingdom. I brought a message and a warning."

"Is that warning in the package that you hold? What did you carry in that?" – Lord Baelish asked waving towards the sack in the man's hand.

The fisherman let go of the sack that fell to the floor silently.

"Nothing, my lord. That's the problem. The warriors of the Iron Islands attacked many little villages along the coast, they pillaged the families, took everything and wherever they went they flew their golden kraken banner."

The fisherman continued telling the event, explaining what the ironborn did. At the end, Baelish couldn't do anything else, but sending soldiers to investigate that case and stop further raiding and abuse.

The meeting soon ended and the crowd gradually vanished from the room and Sansa also blended into the vortex of people. Getting out of the hall, she slowed her steps down and let the mass of people scarper. The corridor emptied and now only Sansa stood there, glaring out of the tiny window onto the bay.

It didn't take too long for Lord Baelish to join her.

"Why is it so that when you solve a problem two other ones appear?" – Baelish sighed.

Sansa turned to face him.

"The delegate of the Iron Bank seemed satisfied." – she pointed out.

Petyr gave her a bitter smile:

"On the surface...But let's not talk about the burdens of the seven kingdoms, my dear. If you wish you could join me for lunch today" – Petyr tried to switch to a more cheerful topic.

Sansa seemed to have lost in her thoughts.

"There will even be lemon cakes served" – he tried to arouse the woman's interest.

Sansa only smiled lightly. He gently moved a lock of hair out of her face.

"What bothers you, sweetling?"

Sansa looked deeply into his eyes.

"I haven't spoken about everything that Varys told me."

Petyr looked at her questioningly, his eyes shining like lanterns in the midst of the night.

"He advised me to leave you and flee as far as possible" – Sansa said quietly and turned right slightly towards the window.

"And... would you like to leave me?" Petyr asked mildly. There was no disapproval in his voice, it seemed that he just wanted to know what she had in mind.

"Of course not" – Sansa sighed with a rather melancholic voice. "Would you like me to go away?"

Petyr stepped even closer so that now Sansa could feel his breath on her face.

"I promised you before and I wish to reassure you again that I will protect you. And I think that there's not anyone more capable than me to do that in the seven kingdoms. No one that I would trust with this" he whispered into her ear.

She remembered the time when she was naive and had faith in everyone. She paid a great price, but she's grown to be a woman who is critical and suspicious. A much viable personality in this world.

He embraced her tightly and Sansa started to feel a lot better. Petyr have always had the words and manners to comfort her when she was troubled.

"Do you trust me, Sansa? Completely? Would you trust anyone with your life?"

"I wish I could" – she answered. "I believe I cannot trust anyone with my life these days."

"So clever of you" he gave an admiring yet sad look. He admired her for her wit, but distrusting him wasn't a feeling he liked to endure too often. He continued:

"I hope I will have enough time to make you believe that you can rely on me entirely."


	5. Marry your enemy or reject your ally

_**Trust**_ _is not a gift worth wasting unless you have a strong reason to do so. Regaining it, once it's lost, is one of the hardest things. Broken trust is like a splintered mirror: the more you're struggling to rebuild it, the deeper it will cut you while trying._

Petyr Baelish was sitting in the lonely workroom with a worried expression on his face. The day was far spent, darkness had covered the city, the curtains were pulled together and only the small candles' blaze lit the room a bit.

His eyes were sparkling dark this evening, deeper blue than the depth of the Narrow Sea, and his hair perfectly blended into the black corner of the chamber, except for the gleaming silver lines.

As he was about to get lost in reading his letters, he heard a slightly annoyed but quite familiar voice.

"Please let me in, there is no need to..."

"I am so sorry, my lady," - said the guard standing outside Baelish's door. "I cannot let you pass. The king commanded me that I shall not let anyone disturb him."

"Then perhaps you, Ser, could ask him instead of me, if he was willing to talk to Sansa Stark." – Baelish now heard this sentence completely clearly.

"I really do apologise, Lady Stark, but I am not authorized to do that. May I call someone to guard you back to your chamber?"

Sansa was about to become resigned to the dismissal, when she heard a voice calling out from the room.

"Let her in!" – said Lord Baelish aloud.

The door opened and Sansa found herself standing in the king's chamber, Baelish was looking at her late night visitor curiously.

"What brought you here, my dear, in this late hour?" – asked Baelish smiling, but the former anxiety still reflected on his face.

Sansa was visibly embarrassed, she answered with an apology:

"Don't be angry, Petyr, I didn't want to disturb you, and it wasn't my purpose to barge in by breaking the door. I just planned to attend to what happened to the king, who vanishes for days, and it is said that he has important matters to deal with. He spends most of his time in his room and gives no sign of his existence."

"The seven kingdoms never run out of problems" – Baelish smiled. "Don't feel yourself unpleasantly, dear Sansa, I wouldn't even mind if you barged in for no reason. Come closer, make yourself comfortable!" – he gestured towards a chair and poured a glass of wine for her.

They spent a few minutes with chatting. Sansa's fears were dissolved as she was sitting in that particularly comfortable chair in the warm room filled with candles to create a pleasant dim, she felt the soothing taste of the wine and listened to Petyr's calming voice. She drifted a bit away from the serious reality, and Petyr was content to see her carefree, so he was telling stories to her happily. That's how they were sitting there: drinking wine, leaning back on the chair and laughing.

Until Sansa noticed what Petyr wanted to conceal.

"What do you really worry about?"

Petyr smirked and smiled.

"Troubling letters that I've been reading this evening."

"What are these letters about?" – Sansa asked.

Baelish stood up and started to walk around the room slowly.

"A leader has certain duties, which one cannot say no to. A king has even more. But only because something has to be done, the decision won't be easier" – he looked at Sansa. "A couple of weeks ago I received a marriage proposal from one of the most influential women in Westeros, who is rather ambitious and her greatest desire is to become a queen. Either by marriage or by weapon. Such a request cannot be treated with contempt" – stated Baelish easily.

"Who is this influential woman?" – Sansa asked in a fearful yet loathful tone.

"Ellaria Sand" –Lord Baelish stopped and stood still.

If Sansa wasn't a noble lady, her jaw would have dropped in disbelief. But she held control over herself and asked in an icy voice:

"And when will the royal wedding take place?"

Baelish walked to Sansa's chair, then looked down on her and whispered:

"Never. I declined the proposal."

Sansa was totally puzzled.

"Are you sure that it was a wise decision for the realm?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. I tried to minimize my losses" – he gave Sansa a half smile. "It is a pity that the consequences were quite... expected."

Sansa could barely find words, so Baelish didn't wait until she formed a question.

"I received another message today informing me that our dear Dornish lady and the king of the Iron Islands got married. It's not the most heartwarming news."

"What a coincidence that both of the newlyweds are hostile towards us. Your enemies are coming for us" – Sansa said.

Petyr smiled and gently touched Sansa's shoulder.

"The enemies are coming. Summer is coming. Even the next winter is coming. All at once. We need to be prepared, not worried. I'll see to that things don't get out of hand" – Baelish said smiling down on her. "Believe me, my dear."


End file.
